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Weyman, Stanley John, 1855-1928

"Under the Red Robe"

He set them down, and going out again,
fetched in a stool. Then he hung up the lanthorn on a nail, took
the bowl and rag, and invited me to sit down.
I was loth to let him touch me; but he continued to stand over
me, pointing and grinning with dark persistence, and rather than
stand on a trifle I sat down at last and gave him his way. He
bathed my head carefully enough, and I daresay did it good; but
I understood. I knew that his only desire was to learn whether
the cut was real or a pretence, and I began to fear him more and
more; until he was gone from the room, I dared scarcely lift my
face lest he should read too much in it.
Alone, even, I felt uncomfortable, this seemed so sinister a
business, and so ill begun. I was in the house. But Madame's
frank voice haunted me, and the dumb man's eyes, full of
suspicion and menace. When I presently got up and tried my door,
I found it locked. The room smelt dank and close--like a vault.
I could not see through the barred window, but I could hear the
boughs sweep it in ghostly fashion; and I guessed that it looked
out where the wood grew close to the walls of the house, and that
even in the day the sun never peeped through it.


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